LUDOLOGY MEETS NARRATOLOGY:
Similitude and differences between (video)games and narrative.

By Gonzalo Frasca. www.ludology.org
Finnish version originally published in Parnasso#3, Helsinki, 1999.

Literary theory and narratology have been helpful
to understand cybertexts and videogames. Aristotelian Poetics [Laurel,
1993], Russian formalism [Porush and Hivner, ?], and poststructuralism
[Landow, 1992] are some of the different perspectives that have been
used to study the subject.

Some authors see cybertexts and videogames
as a new form of or as an expansion of traditional narrative or drama.
The fact is that these computer programs share many elements with stories:
characters, chained actions, endings, settings.

However, there is another dimension that
has been usually almost ignored when studying this kind of computer
software: to analyze them as games.

The problems of using a "game"
perspective are many. Basically, traditional games have always had less
academic status than other objects, like narrative. And because of this,
game formalist studies are fragmented through different disciplines,
and not very well developed.

In this paper we will propose to explore
videogames and cybertexts as games. Our intention is not to replace
the narratologic approach, but to complement it. We want to better understand
what is the relationship with narrative and videogames; their similarities
and differences.

However, the task is not easy. As Espen
Aarseth [1997], one of the very few authors that insisted on the importance
of the game dimension of cybertexts and videogames, affirms:

"To claim that there is no difference between
games and narratives is to ignore essential qualities of both categories.
And yet, as this study tries to show, the difference is not clear-cut,
and there is significant overlap between the two."

Our major problem is the actual situation
of the study of traditional games: lack of clear definitions and theories;
more functionalist approach rather than formalist; fragmented analysis
from different disciplines.

We will assume the risk of proposing
a couple of new terms and definitions, but making clear that they are
strictly provisional. While here they are presented in a different perspective,
many of the ideas shown in this paper were first introduced in [Frasca,
1997]. The reader may consult this previous work in order to find broader
explanations and examples of many topics analyzed here.

THE NEED FOR A LUDOLOGY

The term narratology had to be invented to
unify the works that scholars from different disciplines were doing
about narrative. The research about games and play is in a similar situation:
the topics have been broadly studied from different disciplines (for
example, psychology, anthropology, economy and sociology).

However, these studies are generally independent,
focusing on small characteristics and without looking for bigger patterns
of understanding.

We will propose the term ludology (from ludus,
the Latin word for "game"), to refer to the yet non-existent "discipline
that studies game and play activities". Just like narratology,
ludology should also be independent from the medium that supports
the activity.

The first necessary step in order to understand
games should be looking for a clear definition of the object of study.
An overview of the available bibliography [Frasca, 1997] shows that
definitions are vague and sometimes even contradictory.

The reader will notice that we will not refer in
this work to the classic "theory of games", that has so many
applications in economy, political sciences or organizations theory.
The fact is that we did not find in this theory elements that seemed
useful for our objectives. The possible reason is that, as Lloyd S.
Shapley [Grolier Encyclopedia, 1995] claims,

"Although the terminology of players, moves,
rules, and payoffs might suggest a preoccupation with sports or recreation,
the theory of games has seldom been of practical use in playing real
games. This may be because the theory is based on idealized players
who have clear motives and unlimited skill and calculating ability."

PLAY AND GAME

There are two terms in English to define the activity:
play and game. Other languages just use one term (for example, "juego"
in Spanish, "jeu" in French). The importance of differentiating those
two concepts made some authors, like Roger Caillois, to introduce new
terms when they were not available in their native language [Caillois,
1967]. Caillois proposed "paidea" as an equivalent
to the English noun "play", and "ludus" for
the noun "game". We have decided to maintain these neologisms,
in order to solve some confusions that may arise (mostly because in
English "play" and "game" are both a noun and a
verb). However, as we will explain later, the meaning that we will give
to those nouns will be slightly different from Cailloisí.

Letís first take a look to the traditional meaning
of play and game.

The dictionary defines play as:

"(What is done for) amusement; recreation"
; "the playing of a game; manner of playing" ; "turn
or move in a game" ; "(contrasted with work) have fun"
; "pretend, for fun, to be sth or do sth". [Hornby, 1987]

And game as:

"form of play, specially with rules"
[Hornby, 1987]

Usually, play activities are associated with
children, while games are thought to be more adult activities.
The reason is that games have a strong social component, and
young children need first to be socialized in order to perform that
kind of activities. After that period, games start to be played,
and they continue through adulthood. However, both play and game activities
remain present during adult life (tough in different proportions) [see
Piaget, 1991].

We can give many examples of play : bouncing
a ball, jumping, pretending to be a doctor. The limits of play are
more diffuse that game : the player can start, finish or switch
to a different activity without any exterior warning. On the other hand,
games are more strictly defined: they have an explicit set of
rules, and a defined space and time. Examples of games are: soccer,
chess, hopscotch.

It is a common idea, as the dictionary's definitions
show, that the main difference between those two categories is that
games have rules and plays do not. However, anthropologist
Daniel Vidart shows that this assumption is wrong and that plays
have also strict rules. He gives the example of a child that pretends
to pilot a plane. There is a rule in play: to behave like a pilot, and
not like a doctor or a car driver. That rule was proposed and accepted
by the same player, and she can drop it whenever she feels like it.
While playing, she will accept it, in the same way she would accept
a rule in a game . [Vidart, 1995].

So, if both play and game have rules, which
is the main difference between them? The only author that gives a hint
is philosopher Andre Lalande. He proposes two different meaning when
he defines "jeu" in his Dictionaire Philosophique [Lalande,
1928]. Even though he does not
explicitly refers to game and play (just one French word exist for both
activities), he differentiates them not because of their rules, but
by their result. Games have a result: they define a winner and
a loser; plays do not.

That is why we decided to use Lalandeís definitions
of jeu (associated to Cailloisí neologisms to prevent confusions
between the terms).

Paidea is "Prodigality of physical
or mental activity which has no immediate useful objective, nor defined
objective, and whose only reason to be is based in the pleasure experimented
by the player".

Ludus is a particular kind of paidea,
defined as an "activity organized under a system of rules that
defines a victory or a defeat, a gain or a loss."

LUDUS AND NARRATIVE

The concept of ludus can be helpful to understand
the relationship between this particular kind of entertainment and narrative.

Ludus have a defined set of rules. These
rules can be transcribed, and easily transmitted among different players.
Sometimes, rules are backed up by organizations that define their rules,
like FIFA for soccer.

Based on our previous definition, we can easily
describe the ludus process as follows:

We could complicate a little more the scheme, adding
the concepts of gain and loss (for example, a condition for Triumph
can be the gain of a specific number of "goals" or "points"). But at
this stage, we will keep this scheme simple.

The game itself is played during the development.
The Beginning is a previous step, where the rules are defined and accepted
by the players. The Result is the final step, where, according to the
rules, a winner and/or loser are designated.

Let's now take a look to the agent scheme of Claude
Bremond's "Logique du recit" [Bremond, 1973]. This author continued
the work of Vladimir Propp, focusing on the minimal elements of the
plot. Basically, Bremondís task was to answer the following question:

"is it possible to describe the complete net
of options that the logic offers to the narrator, at any point of the
story, for continuing with its development?".

Bremond based his work on different narrative roles.
The following scheme describes the options ("possible narratifs")
for the willing agent.

[Note: original text of this diagram in French,
the English version is my own traslation

Apart from the Abstention option, Bremondís scheme
looks similar to the ludus scheme. Actually, we could easily
add the Abstention option in ludus, too: at the Beginning, the
player decides not to play.

Even if they are not identical, the similarity is
obvious. The reason is simple: they both describe a weighted action
(or a set of weighted actions). By weighted, we mean an action that,
once it has been performed, has a particular value (triumph or defeat).

Bremondís scheme describes the possibilities that
the author has at any moment of the story, to deal with an agentís action.
Each combination of elements (or functions) is called a sequence.
For example, letís use the scheme to describe the opening of a door
by a character.

The three possible narrative sequences from this
scheme would be:

1) "The door is locked with a combination lock.
The agent doesnít try to open it"

2) "The door is locked with a combination lock.
The agent tries a combination code. The door remains closed".

3) ) "The door is locked with a combination
lock. The agent tries a combination code. The door is opened"

Bremondís scheme could also be used to describe
a particular ludus in an adventure videogame. Those videogames
are made by many different "puzzles", or problems that need
to be solved in order to continue the game. Those "puzzles"
perfectly fit our definition of ludus.

Adventure videogames usually have, at least one
"correct" path to win the whole game. There is a right sequence
of solving that will lead to the triumphal denouement of the adventureís
"story". Each time the player fails solving a puzzle, either
the videogame ends "wrongly" (and the player loses), or the
player has to continue until she goes through it.

In Bremondís words, an adventure videogame could
be described as follows: the playerís performance would determine a
particular set of functions, from the point of view of the character
that he is controlling. One particular combination of functions (plot)
is the winning one; all the rest will lead to the playerís defeat. For
example, in an adventure game, sequence number 3 could be the winning
one.

Thus, does this similarity between Bremondís scheme
and our scheme of ludus mean that games and narrative are the
same thing? Absolutely not. As we are going to show, we are facing two
ontological different objects. However, they do share some structural
similarities, and analyzing them may help us to better understand their
differences.

First of all, Bremondís scheme does not represent
narrative itself, but the possible narratives ("possibles narratifs")
that are available for the author when she is crafting the story. There
will only be narrative when the author decides which path of the scheme
she will take (and, therefore, a sequence is built).

In a similar way, our ludus scheme represents
the possibilities of the game (winning or losing), but not a particular
session of ludus. Ludus and sessions are
different things; the first is general, the second is particular.

Thus, we cannot claim that ludus and narrative
are equivalent, because the first is a set of possibilities, while the
second is a set of chained actions. It would be the same as claiming
that Bremondís scheme is similar to a sequence.

What seems to be similar in structure are the session
and the sequence. However, that does not mean that they are the
same thing.

For an external observer, an adventure videogame
session will look like a group of narrative sequences. Actually,
it is perfectly possible to videotape an adventure videogame session
and show it to a public as a work of narrative (probably the result
will not win any Oscar award, but it will still be narrative).

However, the player is not an external observer.
Observers are passive, the player is active. If the player does not
act, there will be no game, and therefore no session at all. It is a
completely different activity to watch a game and to play the game.

The session is not the ludus, it is
just a product of it. We have seen that, while ludus and narrative
are not the same thing, some kinds of ludus (particularly the
adventure videogame), can produce narrative sequences and, therefore,
narrative. However, producing narrative and being narrative are different
things. It is not correct to claim that adventure videogames are narratives.

In this section we wanted to better explain some
of the relationships between ludus (and some videogames, particularly
adventures) and narrative. However, many other questions need to be
answered. We will finish with one of those open questions: can every
kind of ludus produce narrative sessions?

According to what we just saw, the answer would
be yes, because ludus sessions are structurally similar to narrative
sequences. However, there are many other rules that narrative has to
follow in order to be recognized as it.

For example, a session of Tetris can hardly be recognized
as narrative, mostly because of its lack of characters. However, some
narratology authors claim that even a cooking recipe is narrative, so
maybe a session of Tetris could be it, too. It is not our intention
to go deeper into these subjects right now. What we are going to say
is that there is a perceivable difference between a session of Tetris
and a session of an adventure game. The reason is probably that the
last one is generally closer to a culturally accepted narrative genre.
For example, a session of Infocomís Deadline is similar to a
detective story (at least in some part of its structure, characters,
and actions).

PAIDEA, NARRATIVE SETTINGS AND CHARACTERS

We have just taken a look at the relationship between
ludus and plotís structure. However, even if plot is an important
element of narrative, many others exist. In the same way, we have also
just focused on ludus, a particular kind of play, without yet
paying attention to paidea.

Itís easy to find ludus examples in videogames:
Pac-man, Doom, Mario Bros., Myst. These
videogames usually have a clear main goal (for example, "save the
princess" or "find all the lost pages of the book").
In these videogames, the player can easily know the final result. For
example, if she frees the princess in Mario, she will win. If she canít,
she will lose.

According to our definition of paidea, many
software programs that are not videogames can enter into this category:
for example, a paint or design software. Some videogames can be lost,
but never be wined. Letís think about simulators: there is not a clear
goal in SIM CITY. The player can define his own goal: to build a big
city, or a pretty city, or a safe city. The same is true with flight
simulation. Even though many flight simulators include missions with
goals ("bomb the buildingí or "land the plane"), most
of the pleasure of the software may be just in the ride. The player
is free to decide what she wants to do (for example, do some acrobatic
loops, or fly under that bridge, or over that city).

These simulations do have rules of defeat, but not
rules of triumph: the main goal is up to the player. As LeDiberder affirms,
they are more like toys [LeDiberder, 1993] or even playgrounds. They
give freedom to the player to decide what to do.

Paidea videogames have no pre-designated
goal. So, there is no "winning plot", as in adventure videogames.
The player has more freedom to determine her goals.

As we have seen, as soon as the paidea player
determines a goal with winning and losing rules, the activity may become
a ludus.

If ludus can be related to narrative plot,
paidea can be related to the narrative settings. The ability
to perform paidea activities is determined by the environment
and the actions. By environment we mean the space where the player is
(real, as in a school playground, or virtual, as in a videogame). The
environment includes topology, objects and other characters.

The setting ("spaciotemporal circumstances
in which the events of a narrative occur" [Prince, 1987]) has different
relevance in narrative. Some authors focus on creating an interesting
plot (like in some classic detective novels), while others want to describe
a world or place (for example in a travel story).

The setting is a main component of a novel like
Garcia Marquezís Cien años de soledad. The description of the
places, the objects and the characters presented in the novel are of
extreme relevance. If the novel was analyzed using Bremondís methodology,
all this information would be lost, because it does not constitute the
plot. In a similar way, the paidea elements are not functional
towards the ludus, but they can be a very important part of the
game experience and, therefore, they deserve our attention.

Of course, the setting in videogames is different
than the one in traditional narratives. The videogame designer can allow
the player to perform man actions on any object in the environment (like
manipulate, examine, move, break or use it). Some particular kinds of
objects have anthropomorphic behavior; they seem to be independent;
somehow intelligent; perform different actions and communicate with
the player: they are the computer-controlled characters.

Probably one of the most developed kind of paidea
videogames are MUDs and MOOs. They define a virtual world, where many
actions are possible, including expanding the topology and creating
new objects. Their thematic is varied: many of them are set in fictional
worlds, others not. Some are set in medieval times, other in science-fiction
worlds; and many reproduce traditional towns or cities.

As MUDs are multiplayer-based, they have an enormous
advantage over adventure games: human-controlled characters. The fact
that a real (hopefully intelligent ;) person is behind an avatar, allows
a kind of realism and conversation far superior from the offered by
adventures videogames. However, we believe that this fact is also what
keeps locked the potential of MUDs as a narrative-like medium.

There are two kinds of computer characters. One
is the puppet, controlled by the player; the rest are either computer-controlled
or either human-controlled. It is almost impossible to create a puppet
of a shy, calm nun and pretend that players will behave according to
those traits. If the nun is allowed to control, letís say, a gun, it
would be hard that the player doesnít try to kill other people, even
if the character was supposed to be a pacifist.

People in MUDs do not behave like narrative characters;
peopleís action lack of narrative charactersí coherence. Narrative characters
are not like real people; usually they are archetypes (the hypochondriac,
the joker, etc.). Even more complex narrative characters are more coherent
than the behavior of MUDs players, because behind them there is an author
shaping their actions. MUD players are not authors; even if they pretend
to be somebody else, they do not usually want to tell a story but to
be engaged in paidea activities. On the other hand, narrative
characters are generally driven by different goals (conscient or unconsciently),
making their behavior more similar to ludus.

It is a common thing that, in rich countries, immigrant
people clean public toilets because generally natives can choose other
jobs. Something similar happens in MUDs. As the players are free to
do everything they want, many activities (and therefore characters)
are usually absent from those environments. The consequence of this
is simple: the character richness is low. So, who will do the dirty
job?

Of course, MUDs have other kind of characters: bots
(computer controlled characters). Actually, conversational bots or chat-bots
are becoming more and more sophisticated (and many times they are mistaken
as humans by many players). Bots are context based: they can perform
just certain tasks (talk about sports, for example) but they still fail
to emulate all the actions of a real human player.

Intelligent Bots could be used to solve the second
problem: to represent certain characters that are generally refused
by human players. However, this would not solve the problem that human
players do not behave like characters.

Actually, that second problem is very well solved
in non-computer-based role-playing games, like Dungeons and Dragons.
The Master of the game can easily craft a "non-computer-based"
bot, and give it the traits of a much realistic (and also more narrative-like)
character. The character coherence problem is partially solved in this
game: unlike in online games, people that gather together to play D&D
are usually more focused in going after a goal rather than just wandering
around. However, the problem still persists: even D&D are still
players rather than authors; they are more interested in playing rather
in building a coherent, believable character.

The characters that a player finds in ludus
(adventure games) can be dumber than in paidea environments.
In adventures, they just appear when the plot requires it, they donít
have to be all the time around the environment. As adventure players
have less freedom of action than paidea players, the characters in ludus
will have to react to a smaller amount of stimulus.

Our point is simple: narrative characters are a
very important component of traditional narrative, and that potential
could be translated to the computer.

Nowadays, paidea-based environments lack
of characters with the characteristics of narrative characters. So,
here is the part where the theories article ends and the aesthetic manifesto
starts. We believe that once narrative characters are introduced in
paidea environment (if that is technically possible), the player
experience will be enhanced, adding to paidea videogames some
of the pleasure that traditionally is found in narrative.

Of course we can not prove this affirmation, but,
at least, as we have shown,

there are some reasons to believe it.

CONCLUSIONS

Our main goal was to show how basic concepts of
ludology could be used along with narratology to better understand videogames.
In this particular paper, we just used the proposed terms of ludus
and paidea for two simple tasks. The first was to explain the
relationship (mostly differences) between games and narrative. The second
task was also very particular: to show some relationships between narrative
"environment" (settings and particularly narrative characters)
and paidea.

We feel the need to insist that these two approaches
were done in a very basic way, and both topics deserve a longer and
more complete study. We think that once ludology grows, its applications
to videogames will be very helpful.

There are many other elements from games that should
be studied and would probably have many applications in videogame studies.
Simply as an example for future works, we could suggest the following
subjects:

different kinds of rules in ludus; structural
differences between traditional games and videogames; classification
of the causes of playerís pleasure in paidea.

We also have just focused on certain videogames,
and a very particular kind of cybertext: text-based adventures. It would
be interesting to broaden our study and analyze other kinds of software,
particularly hypertext fiction.